Shrydauner

I am together, with Kay Emm, at the singer Shaun Ryder's house/flat. Ryder's brother (not Paul?), a gangly youth of about 18 (with a slightly rough and threatening air about him) and parents (who seem a kindly couple in their mid-to-late 40s?) are also present. (Being the dreamescape Ryder himself is easily in his 50s.)-

We are all waiting for something, something both inside (dinner?) and outside (unknown – nothing but a tense sensation). Shaun is not there that much and we spend most of the time with his younger brother (of whom I'm still somewhat wary in spite of his relaxed manner). I give the brother £30 which is to cover some favour/undertaking he/they have done for myself and Kay Emm. We talk about 'Madchester' and (either I can visualise or) Ryder has lots of photos of record shelves jammed with vinyl. Black and white individual photos of The Stone Roses and The Charlatan's frontman Tim Burgess - one where he's sticking out a huge Jagger-esque Rolling Stones tongue – as well as crude Madchester themed artwork such as lemons have been laminated and inserted as dividers. I am fascinated by this and mention that at the time you could buy Stone Roses collectible 6” figures (that I would have bought) as well as an Action Man sized Ian Brown doll. Shaun's brother did not know this-

It comes time to leave the room but there is suddenly a huge American Cadillac-style car with two people sitting in the front seats (and our luggage in the back?) blocking our exit. Ryder's brother simply manhandles the car up on its end using the rear axle/bumper and tilts/tips it out the (bedroom?) door-

We are now sitting in the front room. Ryder's father is eating a small circular dish of jelly with a Smartie set in the middle and several equally spaced around the edge. I'm sure these puddings are for the “kiddies” but still encourage (a reluctant) Kay Emm to have one for herself – to my mind they are a Polish treat-

I'm quite certain I need to split the £30 I handed over between Ryder and his brother and, by producing approx. £70 in notes from my pocket, hand him £15 (which I seem to think will then be passed to Shaun and all will be settled... Or does the brother give me the £30 back? At this point things get confusing and for the first time there is that first sense of threat and impatience in the air. Shaun, however, is not concerned – he says something about his brother giving him £1500 when offered the £15 by myself. As Shaun just woken up? Kay Emm seems to be very tired/sleeping-

I go into the first room and hunt out a small 'flip' mirror, curved at one end and in a white/ivory coloured plastic case. As I am examining this object Ryder's mother – she has a dark mop of hair, big, honest eyes and an open, jolly but weary face – enters and says something about 'Uncle Vanya' (a play?). I'm not sure what she's referring to – the mirror? - but she is so amused and laughs away. I force myself to join in-

Selce

I am looking at a UK Government form – the sort one would use to appeal against a benefit withdrawal or criminal injury compensation claim – that has been made out by one 'John Clees'. I stare at the name and make a joke – for THE John Cleese is with me – about "dropping an E". He finds this most amusing-

Kvarvt

I am with a comic book pal Eff See (and just perhaps Aye Ell and Kay Emm, among other people - there's a nagging sensation within the dreamescape that there's a group of us). Eff See bears a huge grudge for some reason or another and has taken a great dislike to an elderly-ish woman who lives on the (main) street where we are all walking. The front of her house resembles a shop more than anything, consisting of two large (display) windows set into a sturdy sandstone surround, a glazed (entrance) door set back from the street a foot or so and centred between them. On either side of the door there is a china/porcelain cat which is posed in a crouch, a Cheshire-ish grin on the rounded, golden striped head and a deep water blue-green finish to the curved, hunched body. In order to express his disdain Eff See lifts one of these ornaments and attempts to smash it. He tries this several times with no success. Having failed to achieve his goal he boots the piece and it skids out into the middle of the road at a junction. We watch a car turn and narrowly miss running over the cat - it is not until we are out of sight that we hear the satisfying (to Eff's ears at any rate) smash of the ornament being crushed-

I have taken the second cat, having spent a considerable amount of time peering in the large windows of the lady's house – they are (reassuringly) dark and, beyond the large ornaments and souvenirs that decorate the perimeter of each window, it is hard to make out anything, let alone if anyone is at home! In spite of my reluctance I eventually jam the second cat between a sturdy stone wall and a signpost, smashing it violently by stamping on it – I'm more doing it out of an anger and frustration at myself for not just doing it sooner as opposed to my half-hearted attempt to emulate Eff's hate. I instantly regret it and am caught in a quandary as to how I can possibly reimburse the woman (by post) for my unwarranted vandalism. I can see the money – to fold or not to fold it? - being slipped into an envelope-

Utridd

https://www.designmynight.com/glasgow/event-space/east-end/mecca-forge

Kay Emm and I are on some sort of coastal walk, very Scottish seaside-ish, at a resort. Somehow we become separated (or rather I seem to dream-skip, suddenly finding myself alone on the other side of a wide bay, the resort buildings, and presumably Kay Emm, just visible in the fading light across from me)-

Taking a decision I continue walking and (with the aid of another quick dream-flit) appear in the seaside town (centre) nearest to this resort-

It's getting quite dark now and I wander through a central plaza, a sad, sparse expanse of dated brown brick paving underfoot with dejected and neglected Council planters dotted at random, a queue of flat-capped people waiting at a primitive tubular steel bus stop-

I wander into a narrow, gloomy side street searching for somewhere to shelter – it has begun to rain, great, fat, sporadic drops at first – and to call Kay Emm on my mobile phone. At the (dead) end of this street is a MECCA Bingo hall, its huge signage casting a strange orange, red and yellow light on to this dingy scene. The bingo entrance on my right I turn to my left, negotiating the sturdy industrial circular tubular steel structure (much like the exposed beams at Glasgow CINEWORLD in their futile attempt at contemporary architectural style) and duck into a damp brick box that is removed from the street, sheltered as it is in the bowels of the opposite building – welcome to the delights of the commercial binstore! As I call Kay Emm, taking care underfoot as there seems to be a central trench, a workie appears and sets about the bins to my right. He's less fortunate than myself and in the dimness he accidentally takes a semi-tumble into this shallow pit, evidently hurting his leg in the progress. In spite of my offer of help, my kindly gesturing, he opts to limp on (and away)-

I tell Kay Emm I am at the bingo and we discuss how we could orientate ourselves and thereby eventually meet up. Then (thanks to yet another dream-skip) we are reunited only now sans car (or so the niggling thought suggests). This means there's further searching to undertake-

We are in some kind of hotel-esque environment and, however much we quietly protest, the sauve, suited man – who looks like the former Chelsea FC manager? - shows us into a meeting room-cum-suite and invites us to wait. Through the glazed entrance wall we watch him chat with a smartly dressed blonde woman. As soon as he returns we make a point of saying we are here by accident and that we're not his intended attendees, being lost, disorientated and really only in search of our car/each other. The chap understands completely, stating to the woman he'll help us and asking that we follow him. I pick/snatch up a crumpled bank cash machine receipt thinking that Kay Emm has maybe dropped it. At first I think the account balance is a six figure sum but closer inspection reveals it is 109.37 (or thereabouts). There's a '6' penned on the back in thick marker. I don't recognise the writing – not Kay Emm's but actually belongs to the woman?-

We are now in a garden centre-ish environment and the managerial type offers to print out a map for us (or at least have one of his secretaries – who all sport the classic 70's white blouse and oversized glasses look – do it for him/us). These ladies sit at cramped workstations in a narrow corridor off the main (manufacturing) thoroughfare. Kay Emm, meanwhile, has successfully connected into her(?) network's WiFi and checked that we ought to head to some (named) building (billboards?). As the now (reading?) spectacled manager sorts this Kay Emm and I happen to notice quite improper 'Health & Safety' signage on the wall facing the crammed in desk, all crude writing on white paper – not the bold black on yellow warnings that one would expect! Not to matter as Mr Manager has a small timber box that can by some means print out this type of stickered sign with the push of a button – all that's need is to select the appropriate phrase from the pre-saved selection on offer. He proceeds to do this, only we remark that the font, a jagged, slanted typeface, is yet entirely unsuitable, pointing out the correct means as per the ideal signage hanging just around the corner from us on the main thoroughfare wall. Of course we don't want to offend this kind gentleman (too much)-

Now we are elsewhere within the same building and I am trying to help display two 3 x Wheeler modern baby prams without toppling their considerable bulks into a crude earthen trench that has been dug (quite randomly!) into the floor. I'm not having much success-